Month: January 2018

Going Green

~ qbit ~ 5 Comments

Green is the color that crawls
Green digs and scrapes
Green reeks of green and
Green isn’t for you or me
Green is knee high to a grasshopper
that is greener than green
Green is the color that stumbles from
leaves drunk on sunlight
Green is the color of night
during the day
Green is always grassier
on the other side of the fence
Green was the color of chartreuse
before chartreuse was even a thing
Green waits for no man
Green is the color of my true love’s lies
Green is the password the women knew
Green are the woeful hills
Green is the sound of your fingernails
rending the earth
Green is how you lost your way
in the woods, Green Giant
Green on the way in
Green on the way out
Everything coming up green.

 

 

For The Twiglits

Renga Challenge -Sarah/Qbit

~ qbit ~ 3 Comments

Love and longing and technology by Sarah and me!

sarahsouthwest's avatarSarah writes poems

Windows

Come and stand beside me at the window,
the world is out there waiting for us,
the way we used to wait for first and second post,
news of lovers stepping out from their rooms.
Now we just wait for them to post
selfies from their bedrooms or their bathrooms –
Seconds from you now in postscripted time,
never farther from what we first needed:

Though now I’m not sure what it is you need,
your window on the world has shrunk so much,
Careful not to lose your sight
on the cutting points of pixel light.
While your fingers dance their tango
Over that smooth, slick touchscreen
I breathe in, arms outstretched, the stars
my orchestra, the garden my ballroom.
I am dancing in the moonlit air,
My skin alive with the scent of night
and you, and you, and you, and you!

How we move together in…

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Charley/qbit Renga

~ qbit ~ 5 Comments

This Renga boldly goes where no Renga has gone before! (There’s probably a good reason for that, LOL!) Take your pick, time, puns, camels, rockets, we have it all!

Portofino's avatarLife in Portofino

Saturdays are promises misspoken that carry
ammunition for the week.  We enter

a range of exhaustion,
bullet bright, concentric motifs

that rifle us past the Sun.  Mooning our loss
of respite from the race, a legion rattles

Is velocity even a question?
What deserts scorched at perihelion?

Melting sands swirl – camels in glass.
Weapons droop into ploughshares.

Still the hardened days untillable,
“until” hocked like a promissory

note.  Hooked on through dies Martis.
Humpday comes as oasis breather.

Then Fire-day our trial by splitting
the distance between caravanserai

and the Gobi-tween.  Dates blend.
Hookah left at the next pyramid.

Time burnt in offering, smoking skyward.
The camels shift nervously in their traces.

qbit has taken up my Renga Challenge as a part of Jilly’s January Casting Bricks to Attract Jade Challenge. 

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Sweet Peas Renga – Jilly/qbit

~ qbit ~ Leave a comment

Wild ride Renga by Jilly and me. Hold on to your hats, and enjoy the creative process in the comments!

jillys2016's avatarJilly's

qbit has taken up my Renga Challenge – it is bound to be…interesting; stick around!   Jilly’s January Challenge of Casting Bricks to Attract Jade is in full swing.  Join us; everyone is welcome!

Like sweet peas in water colors
echoes cross the river

Our dung, our beetled life, our turvey sleep,
we fall into carapaces and disjointed limbs

Guttering wings
grid of prophecies emeralding mold

Divined by eyes upon our backs
that see us once, see us twice

Skittering wake caroms,
threatens our sight; our sight

Our slight, slightest, lightest
saucy flight our taste of heaven

Indigo’s bitter blue
crushes, crunches veins of penicillin

Skewered through the helix,
twinned and twined to origins

Euphrates yellows our canvas
diminished chords return unanswered

Tigris Tigris burning bright
our garden silenced by such fire.

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Leap Sleep

~ qbit ~ 35 Comments

 

Ferry breaking ice. Nantucket MA, 2018
Ferry breaking ice, Nantucket Harbor, New Year’s Day, 2018

 

That unbeknownst to all,
slumber requires
a leap dream –
like a leap year –
an extra turn or toss
of night
to true up
the gaps in our days,
alms, for shadows
gone begging.

And explains, so, finally,
never feeling quite
caught up
to ourselves.

 

 

For dVerse Quadrille #47